November 15, 2011

Smiling Buddha Dead Souls Reading

Filed under: Uncategorized — oversion @ 4:11 am

November 13, 2011: A reading dedicated to those not with us, from whichever way the presenters choose to take that. Solemn, goth, celebratory, warmly, seance/science, in the Smiling Buddha, on College St. Talk about a fun angle for a reading.

For all the while I’ve done poetry readings it’s always been a quiet tradition to comtemplate the spaces in the room, wondering where those whom could not be there might be, a spare seat at a table for 6 occupied by 3, an unseen bench along the side, standing, at the edge of the dance floor, or side by side, on stage.

Didn’t take an audience photo this one, nothing to analyze. Where might they be? Thinking of my cats, but I didn’t mention them.

Instead read all from Safe Telepathy, with the one addition of my father’s journal entry of his flight into Ankara, Turkey in 1954. I love reading that; his perfected grammar and punctuation, like a fine little brush for the brain, exacted text so good for the brain; the clarity.

From Safe Telepathy included a poem that involved Ed Fielding back when I first got to know him, 93 to 95 or so.

And the quotes of Althusser and Corso, which I remain pleased to have placed side by side all that time ago. Althusser says “Ideology is the representation of the imaginary relations of individuals to their real conditions of existence” and then Corso says: “On acid you see more of what isn’t there.” For me, those two quotes combined is probably the 1985-1995 contribution to the data of philosophy and political science

and the rest of my reading was spongy curls on the consciousness of consciousness theme, in a long room that was a buzzing hive of consciousness. And the people just kept arriving. Packed. Noisy at the back. Among the miracles, nash the slash stepped forth from the crowd to find me a lamp when it was too dark. Talk about safe telepathy.

That part of College St hangs onto that working class urban feel thats so hard to maintain. All the dark little trees and the unfathomable, where reality dwells.

Amazing to read having not sat down since arriving, still in jacket and at last to sit. But on stage. And everyone or some at least all looking at me expecting activity of some kind.

Nik Beat gave a much better than reading than mine a bit later. Look out, solid work coming down. Missed some of the other readings, sucking wind out on College St. So warm in that bar. The subsequent sets were to go super intense, but it’s imperceptible to mortal eyes, how it takes it out of me doing poetry readings, and all the depths of it. Joanne and I signed a book for the host, and it was out for a withering browed team meeting in front.

the sunday night cloak patio in november
the sunday night cloak in february
the sunday night cloak patio in april

Oxygen, in its greatest form, on the human planet

process, process, writing process

Writing is a value in itself, good for the heart and mind foundation, the heart and mind ~ writing is so good for you it almost is better than vegetables, the mind keeps us all alive, together, our minds

the glorious trees in the dark of november monday write and what is a sentence with a kestrel angrily flying off… (I’m just learning kestrel, and haven’t got a thing against them, they’re just so realistic, birds of all kinds) and birds of all kinds are overwelmingly talented poets, every bird we will ever see, and every tree writes, everything knows what has happened, consciousness and oxygen may be one. So very fortunate.


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